


follow up

by annavale23



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (well. one kiss), Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Mai (Avatar)-Centric, Missing Scene, but before book 3, it's all just very cute, takes place after book 2, technically, this is just some self-indulgent stuff people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28514586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annavale23/pseuds/annavale23
Summary: [Frankly, Mai should be at Azula’s side right now. Lurching over the princess’s shoulder or something, the flat intimidation to back up Azula’s crafty smirk, and Ty Lee’s bright, unnerving grin loses half its effectiveness without Mai’s unflinching expression to back it up. It’s a pastime, scaring people, or at least it is when they do it.But ships are boring and intimidation’s only fun if her heart’s in it, and there’s something that might be, should be, infinitely more interesting lurking below deck instead]...Or: After her and Zuko's night out in Ba Sing Se, Mai decides to give replication a chance.
Relationships: Mai/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 76





	follow up

**Author's Note:**

> The first fic I've posted in 2021 (but wrote in 2020). As the tags say: this is just some self-indulgent stuff that I thought would be perfect to kick off the new year with!  
> The fic references the comic 'Going Home Again', which was one of the short promotional pieces done before Book Three's release back in the day, but it's not necessary to have read that comic to read this. 
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr as [@drowning-in-cacophony](https://drowning-in-cacophony.tumblr.com/)

* * *

The follow up is always the hardest.

Mai remembers, the first time she’d seriously slipped with a knife. The faint cuts on her fingers were nothing compared to this. They’d been _blood._ There’s still a visible scar. Most of all, there’d been _pain_.

After that, she’d been filled with nerves every time she’d even glanced at her knives. She’d understood fully what they were capable of then. Yet she hadn’t let it hold her back for long. She’d returned to them and done exactly what she had before: just this time, she _didn’t_ slip.

Her mother had been disappointed. She’d been hoping that the pain, the fear and yes, of course, what everyone else would think of a scarred daughter would discourage Mai from her blades. The knives were and are her freedom however, so she’d made pain and fear just an occupational hazard, and she’d never really cared what everyone else thought anyway.

And that’s just what it’s like again. Something that could hurt her, if she’s not careful, yet something she desperately wants too. Sharp, rough edges can be dangerous; but then, her edges are just as dangerous too.

* * *

Ba Sing Se is about to be a distant memory.

The city, that is. The memories of conquering it, of that face paint, of a night-time stroll around the streets – those will remain less than distant. But the city itself is not something Mai particular needs to care about. It’s another stone fortress, and the only thing it was special for – keeping the Fire Nation’s Royal family out – has just been ruined. So now it’s only another city.

This means, naturally, that they’re going to be stuck on a ship instead, and Mai… does not enjoy ships. In her humble opinion, ships are nothing more than boring hunks of metal that just happen to get people around. There’s nowhere to escape but the drowning salty waves which are not that palatable, and the ships themselves just have _nothing_ to entertain her. Metal and equipment and orders, and that’s it.

Azula has a different opinion. She’s found something infinitely entertaining in every establishment they’ve been in with this journey: the _people_. The crew are the victims this time, people who also have no escape.

Frankly, Mai should be at Azula’s side right now, assisting in that mission. Lurching over the princess’s shoulder or something, the flat intimidation to back up Azula’s crafty smirk that has certainly made some men possessing weak-bladders quite uncomfortable, and Ty Lee’s bright, unnerving grin loses half its effectiveness without Mai’s unflinching expression to back it up. It’s a pastime, scaring people, or at least it is when they do it.

But ships are boring and intimidation’s only fun if her heart’s in it, and there’s something that might be, _should_ be, infinitely more interesting lurking below deck instead.

If Azula gets mad… well, she’ll deal with that later. It’s not like Azula’s looked her in the eye and commanded her to stay. She’s not Ty Lee, the ever-suffering sycophant, never straying too far in case Azula needs a fan for her flames. Mai understands the consequences; she also understands how to avoid brushing against them too.

So she slips below deck.

So she can find Zuko.

She finds him in his room, naturally.

It’s the same as everyone else’s here on this ship: the Fire Nation are not known for their frivolous decorations on their military grade ships. The walls are lined with red, gold and black, the proud declarations to their nation. The rooms are bigger than the sailors have to have (and privately she wonders if they’re bigger than what he had on his ship, when he was alone searching for the Avatar), and their beds are covered in better sheets and blankets but that’s about the end of extras. 

Ty Lee, she knows, doesn’t mind. As long as the bed’s comfy, Ty Lee is sorted. 

Azula, she also knows, kicked the captain out of his quarters so she could have the biggest room. _I’m more the captain than him_ , Azula had sniffed dismissively and no one had disagreed. Mai and Ty Lee because it’s true, and the captain because he’s not an idiot. Arguing with the Fire Lord’s daughter - now that’s something that can only go one way. 

His door’s been left half open, like a trailing afterthought. Mai never leaves her door even the slightest bit open, not even by accident. It invites curious eyes, taking the gap as permission to spy – and this small gap is more than enough for her to peer. She doesn’t obviously, because she’s not her mother. She has _respect._ She knocks instead, a casual lazy sort of thing as not to shock him, and just listens for his footsteps.

There’s a pause, but no choked down sounds of surprise. The pace to the door’s short, not many footsteps there, and then a second hesitation, right on the other side of the door. Mai can hear his breathing. Short and shallow. Then he pulls the door fully open, baring her to him, and him to her.

Mai’s expecting him, and yet even still, just for a second, she loses her breath. Her expression stays perfectly put in place, even as his is composed into something hastily pulled together. A frown that borders on angry, and just a pinch of uncertainty hiding behind it.

“Mai,” he says, his voice guarded, but there’s still that faint curiosity laced underneath that he’s not buried well enough to trick her. Mai looks at him, practically from underneath her lashes like she’s _Ty Lee_ or something, and feels a strangely disarming flip in her stomach.

“Ships are boring,” she announces, and watches as his expression slips. Surprise crashes in strong like an errant wave powered by moonlight, shredding through his guard like paper. There’s the surprise, blinking and sincere. Then the wry humour too, and that’s what she’s been looking for. 

He bites his lip for a second, a terrible habit if her mother’s to be believed. His eyes rest on her, heavy and maybe a touch too intense. There’s not enough blinks, she thinks absentmindedly while she takes in the slightly mismatched shape of his eyes. Like he’s unsocialised, more feral than reigned in. The banished exile over the returned prince. 

It’s not like she particularly cares though. His gaze might be considered off-putting, or unnerving to some. She likes it. It’s direct. Honest. No lies there. She’s always appreciated someone who doesn’t _lie._

“You might be less boring,” Mai says eventually. He’s been looking at her a touch too long. If he was going to speak, he’s forgotten what it was he was going to say. 

He starts. A jolt to his shoulders. Then a flash of something in his eyes. Like the other night, on the streets of Ba Sing Se. When she’d leant over him and smirked as he’d sat drenched in a fountain. When they’d ran through the streets hand in hand. When he’d closed his eyes and she had too as she’d kissed him.

Her stomach makes that flip again. Like her insides are turning, but in a delightfully pleasant way. 

“I, uh- I’m not very interesting. Not _doing_ anything interesting,” he says, not stepping back from the doorway yet. His cheek flushes a light shade of pink over his tripped-over words. At his side, one of his hands curls into an anxious fist. He used to do that when he was younger, and used to pull on the edge of his clothes too. Signs still there after years. It’s reassuring. But the differences don’t bother her either. She’ll just have to learn them.

“You wouldn’t be any more boring than waiting for the ship to depart,” Mai says evenly. That’s what Azula and Ty Lee are doing, after all, and what she should be doing too. Standing on deck, making the crewmen anxious as the last arrangements are made before the ship is finally free. She thinks that maybe Zuko’s in his room so he can hide from it all. He doesn’t want to look at the city as they leave it. And maybe he’s trying to avoid thinking about what’s down in the hold too. Traitor or not, three years of someone’s company _would_ make it difficult to reconcile with what had to be done.

His eyebrow tugs down, a slight frown etching itself onto his face. He hesitates, mulling over her words. Mai waits, ever patient, and her eyes trail from his cheekbone to his jaw, remembering the feel of it in her hand. She’s never particularly thought about people’s faces before, of how they can fit so perfectly against other people’s hands. Now she can’t stop thinking about it.

“If you want then. I guess.” He’s shrugging, still frowning. At least it’s not that scowl he keeps wearing. His new automatic expression, or at least the one he wants to be automatic. The one he wants as a wall between himself and the world. Scowls are too high maintenance though. Anger like his burns bright and devastating, but it burns _out_. His scowling will not protect him forever, not like her perfect mask. He’ll need to take it off if he wants to maintain it for longer. 

And since she doesn’t mind his other expressions at all, maybe he’ll feel like taking it off around her.

Mai lets her lips twitch, just the slightest at the corners. His eyes find the movement and stare for a moment too long to be accidental. 

He steps back, finally letting her in. Mai slips inside the room, a silent shadow from hallway to bedroom. It’s just like hers, like Ty Lee’s. His blankets are already rumpled, like he’s thrown himself down on them for a moment before roughly shoving himself back up. In the corner, tucked out of the way yet still visible, a battered plain scabbard holding a sword rests. _Dao_ blades, actually, if her eye is true. She wants to ask him if he’s any good at them. What he thinks about sparring. Against _her_. But he’s twitchy when her eyes linger a second too long, and not in a good way, so she glances away and swallows her questions. 

It’s a shame, really. A conversation like that would really break up the silence, which would quell the fluttering in her stomach. 

“So, uh, ships,” he says, clearing his throat. She glances towards him, noticing how his eyes flicker nervously around the spaces _around_ her head instead of on her face. “Have you been on many?”

Mai stares for a moment. _Have you been on many,_ and that is perhaps the most… weirdest question? It’s certainly a conversation opener, though it’s a little more like small talk than actual conversation. But it’s an opener and considering _she’s_ got no better ideas, perhaps she can’t judge.

“Mostly just the one,” she answers. “We – my family – had to take one here when my father was given a job as a governor. Of Omashu, or New Ozai, whatever it’s called now.” She can’t help the note of distaste over both names – that boring stone city where dreams surely must go to die – yet even still she notices the almost-but-not-quite repressed flinch that jolts through his shoulders at his father’s name.

“Oh,” he says, looking somewhat awkward. Perhaps because his question is only yielding boring answers. “Was- was it nice? The city? I’ve never been.” 

“It was boring,” Mai tells him, her voice turning flat much by habit. She disliked that stone city so much. “Nothing ever happened there.” 

“Oh,” he repeats, but this time he just looks uncomfortable. And Mai… Mai’s just a little baffled. Because this is small talk. They’re engaging in _small talk_ , like they’re her parents or something, and this was definitely not where Mai wanted this conversation to go. No, she liked the thought of it leading to them kissing again, and maybe she could see how his hair feels threaded through her fingers and if his skin really _is_ that warm, just in case she was imagining it last time. Instead they’re being boring, talking about _ships_. It’s not even a conversation she can move along; unless she _wants_ to remind him of being banished, which will never sound like a good idea.

For the love of _Agni_. This is just not going to do. 

“I didn’t come here to talk about ships,” Mai says, going for the direct approach as she stares him down. Maybe she should blink a couple more times, to soften her expression. But then he’s been staring at her in the same way, so he should be used to it. 

Right now, he’s not staring at her exactly like that. His expression’s frozen somewhere between shock and apprehension, his eyes wide for a moment before they narrow to something like suspicion.

“You’re not?” 

“No.” She shakes her head and resists the urge to brush her fingertips across her knives, even if it would soothe away the anxiety deep in her stomach. “I wanted to talk about the other night.” 

She sees the moment it clicks for him what _the other night_ means. A second’s confusion and then his eyes twitch, and he swallows nervously.

“You’re not that boring to be around,” she tells him. Confusion returns, crashing down, and his brow furrows. But confusion’s better than suspicion. Suspicion’s the expression he’ll be giving Azula, and everyone else. She doesn’t want to fall into that basket too.

“Uh… thanks?” 

“I’m saying I had fun.” 

_“Oh_ ,” and now she _really_ gets to see it click. His cheek flushes a light pink, his eyes darting towards her before they glance away, one hand lifting to rub at the back of his neck. “Yeah. I- I did too.” 

A pleasant feeling fizzles in Mai’s stomach. That’s all the go-ahead she needs, really.

So she reaches over to him. There’s not really that much space between them, maybe a few feet – she’d not realised she’d gotten that close actually, but it’s convenient right now. Her hand finds his wrist, her fingers wrapping slowly and securely around it. 

He glances down. His eyes widen, just a touch, before he looks back up at her.

Her fingers feel like they’re tingling. Like the aftereffects of lightning, but not the sort his sister can generate with a flick of two fingers. It’s the feeling of heavy rain saturating through the ground, the lightning flickering across the sky before the loud boom of thunder. It’s the power of the element, and the power that _she_ has right now. She could wind her hand down to his and interlock their fingers just like that. She could just keep holding him like this. She could do whatever she wants, and he'd want her to do it too.

How _thrilling._

He stares back at her with those unflinching, shadowed eyes. She looks into them, then very purposefully flicks her eyes down to his mouth. It’s about the most obvious signal she could give him. But either he doesn’t get it, or he’s too nervous despite the go ahead, because he just keeps _staring_.

So maybe he just needs a couple more pushes. A touch more directness. Mai doesn’t particularly mind taking charge a little. If someone needs to do it, and why shouldn’t it be her? He’s not even really that much taller than her. Maybe only a couple of inches, really, and that’s nothing at all when it comes to something like this.

Her fingers tighten against his wrist. Her eyes flicker back to his mouth. Her two signals before she leans in and closes the gap. 

She doesn’t know how he’s somehow surprised, but he is. There’s a muffled sound of it, trapped between their lips, but then he’s kissing her _back_. A little awkwardly at first, yes, but he _is_ kissing her back. His hands don’t move to grasp her waist or anything, nothing to keep her close to him, but he’s leaning into the kiss anyway so maybe he’s just a little unsure of whether he should touch her. She has no such reservations. The hand that’s not clutching at his wrist slides down his jaw to the back of his neck, the short locks of his hair brushing against her fingers.

And- and he tastes like _smoke_ , faint and like a campfire. 

She _likes_ it.

That surprises her, just a little.

Not enough for her to stop, naturally.

In the end, she only pulls back after the burning in her lungs becomes more pressing than just distracting. She’d much prefer to still be kissing him, but oxygen is unfortunately very necessary.

Her breathing’s not as restrained as it usually is. Rumpled like his bed covers. It’s exposing, telling. But she doesn’t mind exposing herself like this. Not if it’s only to him. Not if his breathing is just as compromised, and it _is_. All rough and ragged.

His unscarred cheek is tinged a pleasant red. She’s certain her face mirrors his in that regard too.

Her hand hasn’t left his wrist.

“This means we’re dating, if you want,” she tells him, her voice a soft whisper, because she thinks he needs to hear it and maybe she does too, an official reason carved down in the sand. Zuko blinks back at her with slightly hazy eyes, his cheek still burning that same soft red, and Mai feels quite pleased with herself. _She’s_ done that. She’s had an effect, and it’s a _good_ one.

“Okay,” he says, his voice going a little weak even over the smallest of words. “That’s- yeah. Okay.”

Mai lets him have one of her small smiles. A gentle twitch of her lips and there’s a warmth gushing through her chest too, all pleasant and tingling and she’s never quite felt anything like it and she doesn’t think she wants to stop feeling it either. She leans forward and kisses his reddened cheek, like it’s some sort of stamp, sealing the deal. Then he’s the one smiling at her, all small and soft and shy, and her face flares like an evening fire, cracking and warm.

“Good.”

Her fingers ruffle through the short, choppy hair at the back of his neck. His hand comes up, slow and hesitant, to hold her waist. She leans in and he does too and-

Their third kiss goes a lot simpler than their first two.

* * *


End file.
